Lied Ii Poem by Morgan Michaels

How many times does a dog bark
in the night, the same two-tone bark:
black. red. black, black, red-unseen,
never tiring or growing hoarse, the
rope tightening about his throat an-
chored in eternity. Black, red, red,
red, black, red, red, black, black, black,
complaining it is cold or alone,
complaining its life's a bust.


How many times does a cab stop
in the light rain of a night
short, before a diaphanous screen door
to which a thick moth clings-
a little tire-shriek capping a faint
complaint of rubber against its condition
over a crunch of gravel, of course, and a slam,
waking the body sleeping within, who
sits up with a start and remembering nakedness
intones, 'Lovely moment, at last you have come? '